Hermione scribbled furiously on her parchment, her quill going scratch, scratch. Snape was slowly gliding round the benches, staring at people's notes. Hermione stopped, just as Snape paused to read Harry's work. He smirked.
"Tut, tut, Mr Potter. What did I ask you to write down?" he asked, coolly. Harry stared into Snape's cold eyes.
"You asked us to write down the ingredients of a complex tongue binding potion," he replied, never taking his eyes out of focus. Snape nodded, the stupid smirk still on his face.
"Correct, so why have you written down the a single hair from the tail of a female ostrich and a claw from a phoenix, when combined, will make the water produce a foul smell, and make anyone unprotected erupt in boils?" he asked, his voice clear, and stony. Hermione shook her head; it was such a simple potion to memorise. Ron was trying not to collapse in laughter, while all the Slytherins already were.
"I-I thought that that's what it was," said Harry, stoutly, frowning at Snape.
"Well it isn't who can tell the correct ingredients? My bet is that Neville doesn't even know what we are doing." He said, the Slytherins roared with laughter, and Snape let a triumphant smile play around on his oily face. Hermione's hand shot up in the air.
"What is it now Miss Granger?" Snape snapped irritably.
"I wanted to tell you that the correct ingredients of a complex tongue binding potion were: two strands of weed from the lake, forty grams of a unicorn tongue, a claw from the tall headed phoenix…" she listed knowingly, but Snape cut her off.
"If you think you are so smart, then why don't you tell me the correct uses of this?"
"According to One Hundred Magical Potions and Their Properties, the tongue binding potion is only to be used when the owner of this potion is going to create…" Snape cut her off again.
"So, is Mr Potter your best friend?" asked Snape, his greasy hair half glowing in the dim light. Hermione nodded, in a confused way.
"Well, you have a funny way of showing it! Usually you would jump at the chance to help out your friends. You wouldn't want Mr Popularity to fail his exams now would you?" he continued.
"I'm sorry Professor, but I don't see the relevance to a tongue binding potion," snapped Hermione icily. The class stared up. Snape smirked triumphantly.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for back chatting to a teacher Miss Granger," he said smoothly.
Hermione waked with Ron in the direction of the great hall. Ron was holding his hand to his mouth, trying to hide a boil from view. It was an ugly boil, about three times the size of a normal boil and erupting in regular explosions of gooey puss.
"That git," he spat, using his spare fist to hit at the wall. Hermione shook her head.
"You shouldn't have shouted at him you know," Hermione said bossily, "you know what he's like!"
"And that's the thanks I get for sticking up for you," Ron muttered darkly.
"I didn't ask for your help Ronald, of course Snape was wrong to put that spell on you, he used the most powerful version. I can't remember what the counter curse was though," she mumbled thoughtfully. Harry looked at Hermione.
"What spell did he use then?" he asked.
"Oh, it is the Blowing Boils hex," she said, still in deep thought. Harry grinned.
"I can't believe you don't know what to do," he laughed. Hermione frowned.
"There's no need to be like that, I can't just remember everything off the top of my head you know," she complained, frowning. Harry shook his head.
"Come on Hermione, who are the people who know all about disgusting hexes and curses, create them AND know the counter curses?" he asked, still grinning.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Hermione and Ron whispered simultaneously. Harry laughed.
"If you think I'm going to those two gits, then I am telling you, you're wrong mate," Ron said.
"Fine, leave your head looking like a giant puffed up beach ball then," he said, ducking just in time for Ron's clenched fist to swipe in the direction of his head.
After a satisfying lunch of Shepherds Pie, Hermione set off for her Ancient Runes lesson, while Harry and Ron scurried up the familiar staircase for the Divination room. Ron ran to the back of the room where he slumped down on a squashy bean bag. Harry sat next to him, swinging his bag over the low table and onto the floor. They sat playing games with wax swords for the next few minutes, until they realised how unusual things were.
"Where's old Trelawny then?" Ron asked. Lavender Brown, who was at the next table nodded worriedly.
"She never takes this long to appear out of the shadows," she said poetically, though her voice was trembling. Harry shrugged.
"Never mind, maybe I will die next week then," he said, Ron and him burst into fits of laughter.
For another ten minutes nobody appeared, until with a swoosh the door burst open, and in its wake was none other than…Albus Dumbledore. There were a lot of excited whispers flowing round the room, until Dumbledore hushed them, raising the palm of his hand.
"Silence, please," he said, in his normal calming voice. The class fell silent immediately.
"Now, I expect that you are all wondering where your teacher is. Unfortunately, Professor Trelawny has been having some troubles over the summer holidays, and has been forced to relocate. Therefore, I am best suited for the job as I have had some decent experience. Now, I might not be as skilled or talented as Professor Trelawny, but I will of course, do my best. Now, would somebody please do the generosity of telling me where they were planning to continue this year?" he asked. The class, though in shock, slowly raised a few hands.
"Ah, yes, Miss Brown?" he said. Lavender put down her hand.
"We were going to start on superstition, Professor," she said.
"Superstition can be a very dangerous thing," he started; Ron stared transfixed, as though he were an eager boy waiting for a lollypop, "many people have died through superstition. Of course, not believing in superstition is superstition in itself. You may have heard many muggle tales about how some think cats have nine lives, or that walking under a ladder is bad luck. But wizard superstition is a very different matter. How many of you think that werewolves are bad, or unlucky?" he asked. Nearly everyone raised their hands. He nodded. "Yes, that was expected. But why do you think that? Because books are always casting them as evil omens of death? Because they look scary? The fact is, it is said that if you come face to face with a werewolf on the full moon on Halloween, and its fur its black, not brown, you will have ten years of good luck," he said slowly. Ron gasped, along with Neville, Justin and Lavender. Harry sighed. Divination, even now with the best Headmaster ever, was a bore. He simply didn't care about palmistry, and what would happen in the future. He most certainly didn't care about superstition. As Dumbledore went on and on, Harry sat, slumped in his bean bag, waiting for the bell to free them.
They walked out of the classroom in a much better mood than they had been in when they had entered.
"That was the best Divination lesson I have ever had!" Ron exclaimed.
"Yeah, I guess. It's care of magical creatures next isn't it?" Harry asked. Ron nodded, but carried on as if he would forget the lesson entirely if he didn't spill out his views now.
"The way Dumbledore made it interesting…God that man has a gift! Mate, do you know I actually wish we had double Divination that was incredible!" Ron gabbled, several other people around them were saying the same things. Apart from Lavender and Parvati, who flounced off, feeling as though poor Professor Trelawny had been betrayed. Harry suddenly noticed how light he was feeling.
"Oh, I've left my bag in the Divination room! Oy, Ron, I'll meet you at Hagrid's hut!" he called, as Ron disappeared into the thick swarm of people.
He made his way to the Divination room, and was about to walk in when he heard voices. He paused.
"Sybil, calm down. The child is gone," he heard Dumbledore say.
"Th-the child cursed me, oh!" cried Professor Trelawny. Harry pressed his ear closer to the door, interested at who the child could be.
"I know, Sybil. I will keep a close eye on him, I promise!" he swore. Harry was intrigued. He now knew it was a boy as well!
"I came out of my classroom, and he was there, with his wood, and the s-scar," she sobbed. Harry jumped in alarm. He had a scar.
"Sybil, nothing will happen to you. Harry Potter will now be safely in his next class, you need to relax," Dumbledore said comfortingly. Harry's knees went like jelly. He couldn't believe it. They were talking about him.